


Healed

by SWLI1995



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychological Trauma, Sam Winchester Angst, Sam Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam Winchester Whump, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Torture, Trauma, lucifer torture, sam trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWLI1995/pseuds/SWLI1995
Summary: Sam was tortured in Hell and that doesn't just go away. In this story, we get to more fully understand the trauma Sam has endured as a result of his time in the pit.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam’s eyes flashed open, Lucifer’s hands red with blood still fading from his vision. It had been 7 years since Sam had escaped Lucifer’s cage, but the experience still haunted him. Cass had managed to take away the up all night crazy that had plagued him for a time, but now he was left with the raw memories from his time down under. It were these memories that kept him up at night and besieged his dreams. Sam stared up at the ceiling, the cold paralyzing terror starting to fade from his veins .Sighing, he gently raised himself up and pushed the blankets to the side. His movements were gawky as he shuffled towards the bathroom. He rubbed his hands down his face and glanced at the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and light stubble reflected back at him. He glanced back into the room searching for the red neon numbers that would indicate how bad tonight was.They blinked 4:30 back at him. Good morning, Sam thought sardonically. Though, he couldn’t complain, 4 hours was the most sleep he had gotten in the past couple weeks.  
  
Overall the bunker smelled like old mildew, but suddenly, the kitchen was alive with the smell of coffee. The dark brown liquid poured smoothly into Sam’s cup. And as he brought it up to his mouth, the warm steam and odor filled his body, awakening his still groggy muscles. He placed the mug back on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to process the memories his dream had thrown him.  
  
_He was back in the cage. All around him was darkness that stretched on until he thought he might go mad just from looking out into it. There was an overwhelming stench of decay in the air. Sam turned back around and came face to face with Lucifer. Despite the eternal darkness, the devil had an eerie glow about him. Sam could feel himself trembling. Lucifer noticed too and smiled before slamming his hand into Sam’s gut. The pain came sharp and fast as Lucifer’s hand sliced through the skin and clenched around Sam’s internal organs. Sam screamed out as his whole body wretched in pain. He began to fall to the ground but Lucifer held his shoulder with incredible force. He looked into Sam’s eyes and smiled ripping his fist out still clenching Sam’s guts._  
  
Sam reopened his eyes suddenly. He was unsure why he went through this process every time. Each time, it was like living the whole experience over again. He sighed again looking back down at the cup as the heat from his drink slowly evaporated outwards.  
“Sammy,” Dean’s sleep slurred voice called out. “It’s like 5 in the morning dude, what are you doing?”  
Panic quickly rose in Sam’s throat as his mind scrambled for an answer. With a quick smile and slight shrug he replied, “What….Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”  
“Eh,” Dean grunted mindlessly pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
As Dean sat, eyes half closed, Sam felt sweat bead up on his forehead. The nightmares had been pretty consistent the past couple of months, but each day had become more of a challenge. Eager to avoid a more detailed conversation, Sam smiled slightly and left the room. Dean didn’t seem to notice as he continued to stare at the wall both hands gripping his mug.  
  
There was still a tension in Sam’s muscles. It was like he was always on edge, he could never relax. He opened up his laptop and after the screen blinded him, started his day, pretending everything was normal.  
“Dude, what’s up with you” Dean asked walking into the main area of the bunker.  
“What do you mean?” Sam replied barely glancing up from the computer screen.  
“I mean… it’s nearly 11 and you’re still sitting here in pajamas and you haven’t even showered yet You, Mr. Perfect.”  
Maybe at one time, Sam would have smiled at that last comment, but instead a flooding sense of guilt and shame filled his body. The guilt that everything was falling apart and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell Dean what was going through his mind. He felt like he might collapse from the shame, but he just pushed everything down and tried to speak without his voice shaking.  
“Yeah….Um… I think I found us a case,” he finished deflecting.  
Dean stare with frustration at his little brother clearly recognizing the deflection.  
He shook his head, “Okay, what do ya got?”  
“Well there’s this girl in Carbondale, IL…” he was abruptly cut off as Castiel burst through the door above.  
“Just come on in Cass, “ Dean said sarcastically, his eyes following the angel until he was standing in front of him.  
“Dean. Sam,” Cass said in a rush, “Lucifer has escaped from the cage.”  
Everything froze. Sam could feel the blood drain from his body. His vision narrowed and his breath caught in his chest. He could only vaguely hear Dean in the distance asking the appropriate questions; but, it was if that was happening in a different dimension. He could see Lucifer in front of him, feel him ripping and tearing at his soul. Sweat began to break out on his forehead and the saliva in his mouth disappeared. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest, and all of a sudden a burst of energy flooded his veins. Uncontrollable energy where all he knew he had to do was get out of there, had to get up and start running, had to…  
“Sam!” Dean snapped looking into his brother’s dazed eyes.  
“What?” Sam responded trying to regain some control over his mind.  
Concern washed over Dean’s face, but he could feel the urgency of the situation and realized he would just have to deal with this later.  
“The devil’s in Kentucky. Don’t you think we should get a move on it?”  
“Yeah. Yeah” Sam heard himself say even though it was like a million sirens were going off in his head telling him to stay away.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s heartbeat was a tempest drum inside his chest, each beat thundering throughout his body. He was a bit surprised no one else could hear it but Dean sat next to him staring expressionless out the window. The two lone lights of the Impala faded into the blurring lights of Danville, Kentucky. The adrenaline in Sam’s body rose each step closer they got. It felt like his veins were closing in on themselves, squeezing in until he couldn’t move, his whole body a knot of tension.  
They pulled into the motel parking lot and all 3 shuffled into the shabby, cramped room . Sam’s muscles hadn’t relaxed and each new movement felt jerky and stiff.  
“Well, I say we call it a night and start the search tomorrow morning.” Dean said throwing his duffel bag on the stained bed.  
“Dean,” Cass started in a gruff voice, “Lucifer is out there, we can’t let him go.”  
“I know man, but I’m human. We’ve been driving all day. Just give me like 4 hours.”  
Cass sighed, “I’ll just start looking for him then.”  
“Cass,” Dean said pushing his fingers against his eyes, but Cass had already walked out the door. “Okay great, while he’s out there getting himself killed, I’m gonna get some sleep.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder once and fell onto the bed. The touch seems to jolt Sam into motion. He walked over to his bed and laid down fully clothed. His body wasn’t his own. It was as if he was riding in the backseat of his own mind with someone in front propelled him forward. He stared at the ceiling knowing he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.  
  
Dean’s soft snores came rhythmically as the soft sunlight poured in through the window. Sam remained in the same position as several hours earlier, his body frozen in place. He had convinced himself Lucifer knew he was here, and he could feel his hands crushing the bones in his body. His ruminating thoughts were cut short as Cass opened the door, bathing the room in sunlight. Dean instinctively shot out of bed, eyes clenched shut from the sudden illumination and a gun in his hand.  
“Cass god dammit.”  
“Dean, you said 4 hrs.”  
Dean grimaced and flopped back on the bed, “Whatever. Did you find Lucifer?”  
“Yes.”  
Sam’s heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, the room was too bright, voices were too loud and the air against his skin stung. His head was pounding and his breathing shallow. He knew if he didn’t get a grip on his emotions soon, he was going to pass out right in front of Dean and Cass. A few deep breaths later, the tension began to recede, just a bit, and he was left with a slight buzzing in his head.  
“Well what are we waiting for?” He heard Dean finish. “Sam, you coming??”  
“What? Yeah.” Sam replied his voice only slightly trembling.  
Dean gave his brother a once over before swinging the duffel bag over his back and stomping out the door.  
  
Why was he like this? He found himself thinking. Why, after everything he’d been through, did he have to deal with this paralyzing fear He’d faced monsters and leviathans, hell even Lucifer before, so why couldn’t he bring himself to treat this situation like those? Why did he have to be sitting here shaking in terror while everyone else sat focused on the mission in front of them? Lucifer had tortured him, done things to him he couldn’t bring himself to think about, but he, Sam Winchester, had saved the world. Because of his sacrifice, Dean was still alive. Yes. He was Sam fucking Winchester and he would be damned if he couldn’t beat the devil a second time. His mental pep talk seemed to lessen the anxiety.   
They pulled up to an abandoned warehouse. Dean peered out from under the windshield, “You sure he’s here?”  
Cass’s expression didn’t change, “I’m sure.”  
“Okay then,” Dean said taking a deep breath and heading out the door.  
The trunk of the Impala was a mosh pit for occult objects. Dean reached in and grabbed the archangel blade they had secured from Gabriel. He shook his head and smirked.  
“This is finally it. We’re finally going to ice this son of a bitch.”  
Sam smiled too as adrenaline replaced anxiety. He was filled with a false sense of energy and readiness, fully prepared to stab the SOB. They slammed the trunk shut and stalked into the building. Dean turned the corner of the opening slowly, angel blade close to his chest.  
“Hiya guys,” Lucifer mocked waving his fingers. Then with a flick of his wrist, all 3 of them were flung against the wall. Sam heard his head smack the concrete, then everything went black. He woke a few moments later to see Lucifer clenching his fist and Cass doubling over in pain. Dean charged at the devil, blade angled behind his back. He swung it around and aimed at his throat. Casually, Lucifer flicked him to the side then proceed to stride over to where Dean lay crumpled on the floor. He picked him up by the collar of his shirt and punched him back to the ground. Sam surged with energy. He began running at Lucifer, swiping up the blade that had been tossed to the side. Lucifer, noticing Sam’s huge body closely approaching, turned to face him. Sam froze. Every muscle in his body quit working. He distantly heard Dean screaming to stab him, but it was as if all the air in the room had disappeared. He couldn’t breathe but he could make no motion to try either. Lucifer smiled knowingly and walked up to Sam and cupped his face in his hand. The gesture sent shutters throughout Sam’s body and it felt like the most disgusting and violating gesture Lucifer had made. Because, this time he knew exactly the damage he had done and instead of just killing Sam, he was letting him go with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything. Lucifer smiled again and vanished.   
Dean rolled onto his hands and knees, spitting up blood, “What the hell Sam?! You had the shot, why didn’t you take it?”  
Sam’s bones turned to jelly and he collapsed to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes. Dean rushed to his brother's side.  
“Sam! What’s wrong? Did Lucifer get you?” he questioned trying to place a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam recoiled from the touch.  
The room was suddenly too small and his brain screamed at him to run, to escape. He shoved Dean away, shot up and ran out the door.  
Dean stared after his little brother in confusion. Cass, picking up on Dean’s shock, tried to run after Sam. Panic began to build in Dean’s chest. What had just happened? He had seen the change in Sam’s behavior over the past couple weeks but had been too preoccupied to say something. Now Sam was gone after freezing in front of the devil. He ran his hands through his hair as Cass returned without the younger Winchester.  
“Dean, I’m sorry. I couldn’t catch him, and I don’t know where he went.”  
“Dammit Cass, what the hell was that?”  
“I don’t…”  
“Was Lucifer working his angel mojo??”  
“I don’t think so Dean…”  
“Well then what Cass, Sam doesn’t just freeze!” Dean yelled, a single tear escaping down his cheek.  
“Dean,” Cass tried to comfort.  
“No...just no,” Dean said, his voice cutting off at the end. Sniffing, he wiped his hand over his face, “Come on, let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is missing, Dean is distraught. All he has is Cass, and maybe that will be enough for now.

*several hours later*

Dean slammed the door of the Impala and stalked off towards the bunker. Cass stared after him sympathetically. They had searched for hours and found no sign of Sam. The boy couldn’t have gotten far on foot, yet he couldn’t sense him anywhere close. He knew some of the psychological scars Sam had from his time with Lucifer, and he understood the younger Winchester’s terror at facing the archangel; yet, he didn’t think Dean could understand in the same way. He let out a soft sigh and walked after the irritated hunter.  
Dean’s mouth was pursed closed as his gaze drifted across the abnormally empty bunker. He could feel the anger and stress bubbling underneath his skin. In one swift motion, he swept his arms over the table, knocking papers and a lamp to the floor. He grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it towards the wall. It smacked against the hard surface and shattered like glass. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, until he felt Cass’s presence behind him. Turning around, he glared at the angel. Glared because he was frustrated and dismayed and being angry at Cass was easier than dealing with the emotions he was feeling. Cass’s blue eyes stared back at the hunter’s grimaced face compassionately. He could see the twisted pain in the lines of Dean’s face and wished he could offer some console.  
“Dean, Sam knows how to take care of himself. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s okay,” Cass offered.  
“You didn’t see him Cass. The kid was out of his gourd. I don’t know what the fuck happened back there, but is sure as hell wasn’t Sam being okay.”  
“The torment Lucifer inflicted upon your brother...I think it affects him more than we think.”  
“What do you mean,” Dean asked incredulously, “I thought you took away all that crap.”  
“While I was able to take away some of the psychological burden, Sam still bears the memories. I don’t know what Lucifer did to him down there, but I think it’s safe to assume whatever it was is still probably worse than anything we could think of.”  
“So what are you saying?! Sam sees the devil and turns into a drooling mess,” Dean yelled, exasperation creeping into his voice.  
“I think your description of Sam’s reaction does a gross disservice to those suffering from mental health conditions.”  
“Mental health...what??”  
Cass sighed, sensing Dean’s discomfort with the subject, “Dean, I’ve observed human behavior for the past 2000 years, and I can see the symptoms in Sam. I think he has condition you call post traumatic stress syndrome.”  
Dean stared down the angel, worry and anger seething inside him, finally he said, “What? No. Sam isn’t some sissy who can’t handle his own mind.”  
Impatience was growing in Castiel as Dean wrapped himself tighter in denial. “Dean,” he said shortly, “Sam endured unimaginable physical and emotional pain down in the pit. I’m sure anyone else in his circumstances would not be doing as well as he has done. Even so, mental illness is not reserved for “sissies” as you call them. It is a disease like any other and can affect anyone. Given Sam’s situation, I think it is a perfectly understandable reaction to what he has gone through.”  
Dean’s shoulders slumped and the concession washed over him as he finally gave into the idea that Sam was not untouchable. His face contorted with pain and guilt. If he had gotten Sammy out sooner, maybe they wouldn’t be here right now. He felt the warm liquid streaming down his face before he realized he was crying. Sam was hurting and afraid and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. No bad guy to kill, no monster to stop, he was helpless. Cass watched Dean turn away from him, his shoulders rising and falling in the rhythmic pattern of weeping. Cass felt a sharp pain in his chest for Dean’s sorrow. He stepped lightly over to the elder Winchester and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dean spun around and grasped Cass’s trench coat, pulling the angel close. He gingerly placed his lips against the angel’s. All the emotion he had tried so hard to dam up flooded over him and his lips and body hungrily asked for more. Cass pushed back forcing Dean’s hands to let go. He stepped back, his face flush and his lips red and plump. It was true, Cass had always had more than platonic feelings for Dean, but this felt like taking advantage of him.  
“Dean,” he began.  
Dean didn’t let him finish as he smashed his body against Cass and lump hardening against his leg.  
“Dean, please,” Cass said again more urgently, “I can’t do this to you, not like this.”  
Dean seemed to hear the pleading in Cass’s voice and he stepped closer to the angel, cupping Cass’s face warmly in his hand.  
“Cass,” the distraught in his voice was evident, “I can’t control what Sam is going through, I can’t make it stop. I’m supposed to protect the kid, but how am I supposed to protect him from his own mind? But, you know what I can do? I can take you, right here and now because.. Dammit Cass, because I need you,” he finished, his green eyes staring intensely into Cass’s blue.  
Cass searched Dean’s face finding the familiar lines of agony and stress but also an openness and vulnerability he had never seen before. Cass reached up to the hunter and pulled his face down to meet his lips. Soft kisses became hungry and desperate as hands tore away at clothing and teeth bit down on skin. Dean finally stepped back for a moment to catch his breath. Both were sweaty and panting. Dean grinned seductively at Castiel before grabbing his hand to lead him to his bedroom. In this, he felt in total control.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal Ideation

Blots began to swim in Sam’s vision. How long had he been running? He couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t breathe. His feet slowed and eventually came to a stop. His chest heaved as he hurriedly tried to gulp down air. Once the his breathing slowed and wasn’t so heavy he leaned back against a nearby wall. The full weight of what had happened that afternoon crashed over him like a giant wave. He could feel his knees buckle from under him as he crumpled to the ground. Sam was a giant, 6’4, over 200 pounds but now he felt incredibly small and weak as he curled up against himself in the dark alley. The air was cold but humid with the feeling of coming rain, and suddenly Sam was back in the cage.  
  
_The rancid air surrounded him, filling his pores, tainting his soul. He could feel Lucifer’s looming presence next to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the devil. Lucifer began to caress Sam’s shoulder, sliding his hand down Sam’s arm in one fluid motion. Sam tensed to the touch, his whole being wanted to escape from his own skin. Lucifer latched onto Sam’s wrist and soon had him pinned to the floor. Sam could feel the tears streaming down his face but it was useless, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything. Lucifer whispered in Sam’s ear and the icy calm of his voice sent shutters throughout Sam’s body. The devil smiled, his face still pressed against Sam’s ear as he reached down to wear Sam’s hand was pinned underneath his knee. He placed his thumb and index finger under Sam’s fingernail and began to pull. Sam screamed out, tried to arch his back or wiggle out from underneath Lucifer’s grasp, but it was a useless effort. With each fingernail the pain worsened and Sam could only faintly make out Lucifers merciless laughter from his own screams. Finally each fingernail had been peeled away leaving Sam’s hands bloody and numb. He felt Lucifer slide his hand back up his arm and press his face into the hard ground of the cage. He could feel Lucifer’s moist breath against the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw a flash of silver and felt the flat edge of a knife press against his skin. In a peeling motion, Lucifer began to tear away at Sam’s flesh. His agonizing screams seemed to pierce through the darkness. He found himself begging for him to stop but was only meant with Lucifer slicing deeper, carving his soul._   
  
Sam was jolted back to the present. It had begun to rain, and he sat against the wall breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably. The rain melded in with Sam’s tears as he glanced up at the desolate night sky. He curled his hands into fists, still able to feel the pain of the flashback. Despair and hopelessness carved a chasm in his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, Lucifer was there taunting him, mocking him, violating him. There was no way to escape it. This situation was never going to get better. Hesitantly, he reached for his gun. No escape, no end to this pain. The barrel of the gun was cool against his burning, sweaty scalp. Lucifer would always be there. There was only one way to end the torment. His fingers tightened around the trigger. Sobs racked his body and his hand trembled as he held the gun to his head. He couldn’t do it. Despair radiated through his body and a heavy darkness weighed on his soul, yet somewhere within that blackness was a faint light. Dean. Dean would be left in this world alone, alone to fight the devil. How could Sam leave his brother in that situation, not just left to fight the devil alone, but left to fight the world alone too. With an exasperated sigh that seemed to release all the tension Sam had been holding, he forced the gun away from his head. He remained there for a while, letting the rain fall over him.


	5. Chapter 5

Shattered glass lay scattered across the floor reflecting up the uncomfortableness in Dean’s eyes. Cass sat across from the elder Winchester with an eagerness in his chest he was forced to suppress as he stared at Dean’s worried face. Last night had been a night both had secretly wanted for a long time but now Dean was once again reminded of what had led him to such a vulnerable state. Sam hadn’t come home last night. Where was he? What had happened to him? The thoughts played in a loop within Dean’s head. Worry and concern became deepened lines on his face as he thought about where and what his little brother was doing.  
“Dean,” Cass tried to say, and suddenly Dean was brought back to the present, the memories of the previous night flooded his brain. He blushed and turned away from the angel, “Look, Cass,” Dean began but was cut short by the creaking of the bunker door opening. Both looked up as Sam shuffled into the bunker, clothes still damp and hair disheveled. His eyes were red and the tears still streaked his dirty face, but there was a noticeable sense of relief when he saw Dean and Cass sitting at the table.  
Despite the state Sam was in, Dean was thrilled see him home again. He practically jumped up from his chair and ran over to greet his brother in a warm embrace. Fresh liquid began to spill from Sam’s eyes as he returned the hug.  
“Sammy, it’s good to see you.”  
“Yeah, you too man,” he said, voice still muffled as he buried his face in the familiar flannel of his brother’s shirt.  
Dean held onto his brother for a moment longer before pulling back and looking over him.  
“What the hell happened Sam?” He asked genuinely concerned.  
Taking a deep breath, Sam buried all the apprehension he had about telling Dean how bad things had gotten, and instead let the words fall from his lips.  
Somewhere in the conversation, Sam had begun to waiver where he stood; so, Dean moved them to the table. Dean stared wide eyed at his baby brother as Sam finally went silent, staring down at the dark wood on the floor.  
“Sammy,” he tried to say, but suddenly his mouth was dry and he couldn’t form the syllables.  
He took a quick swig of his coffee that had gone cold, but it was enough to wet his mouth.  
“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”  
“I know,” Sam mumbled, unable to shift his gaze to look at his brother.  
A weight had been lifted from his chest as he told Dean the extent of his trauma; however, a thick sense of shame replaced it. Shame, not only because he had waited so long to tell his brother about what was going on, but also because he felt weak and foolish for not being able to deal with what had happened in the cage better. Dean could sense the unease in his brother, but these situation were difficult for him too. He racked his brain, trying to come up with a response that would lend some comfort.  
“I mean, I guess it must not be so bad if you were able to hide it for so long.”  
Sam’s shoulders slumped over more and Cass shot a sharp glance at Dean.  
Fuck, Dean thought. “Sorry Sammy….maybe we could take you to a shrink or something,” he finished uncomfortably rubbing his neck.  
Sam smirked at the floor, starting to regret telling his brother what was going on. “What are they going to do Dean, just pump me full of pills, or worse, send me to the psych ward,” he said bitterly. He could feel the heat rise to his face as Dean continued to stare at him, the uneasiness of the situation obvious in his stance. Dean licked his lips like he wanted to say something else, but resigned to look at the ground. He cleared his throat.  
“Just shut up okay,” Sam said, standing up abruptly not looking at his brother.  
“Sam,” Dean tried to interject, but Sam was already stepping back from the table.  
“Just leave me alone,” Sam yelled, raising his hands as if to push Dean away. He was wiping the sleeve of his shirt against his face as he rushed out of the room.  
Dean sighed, and rubbed his hand down his face, and Cass looked at him sympathetically. Glancing back at the angel, he shook his head, “I don’t know man, what am I supposed to do with that?”  
“Just give him time Dean.”  
With that, Dean slumped back in his chair and opened up the laptop sitting on the table. Research was Sam’s strong suit, but his brother needed him now, so it was time for Dean to up his game. The cursor blinked a few times before the letters PTSD popped up into the search bar. It was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

His head pounded with the beat of a thousand emotions. Guilt, shame, anger, embarrassment, regret, sadness, all of them flew through Sam’s consciousness as he lay on his bed eyes shut tightly. Either hand grasped the edge of the bed as if letting go would mean he would be swept away. What a fool he had been to tell Dean, of course he wouldn’t understand. How could he? He closed his eyes tighter trying to block out the negative thoughts his brain kept throwing at him. It was no use, he sighed and stared up at the cracked lines in the concrete above. A thick sense of hopelessness began to drape over his body. This situation was never going to resolve. He thought Dean could help but it was obvious he could not. A single tear trickled down his cheek as he slowly let the negativity infect his blood. Sometime later, he couldn’t remember when, everything went numb but it was a welcome relief compared to what he had been feeling. 

Days passed and Sam had barely gotten out of bed. When he did, his movements were slow and awkward, like he was walking in mud. Dean’s gut was full of worry and concern for his little brother but every time he tried offering Sam comfort or even food, Sam would just yell at him to leave him alone. More recently, he would walk into Sam’s room to find him staring, eyes glazed over, looking somewhere far off. This worried him more than anything else. What was going on in that mind of his? On the fifth day, anger began to replace worry and Dean marched down to Sam’s room slamming the door open. Sam was laying on his side and didn’t turn over when Dean burst into the room. Dean stared down at his brother who looked so small curled up on the bed. Sam’s eyes were open, but it was that far off gaze. Plopping himself down at the end of the bed, Dean started shaking Sam’s leg.  
“C’mon man, get up, I’ve let you laze around long enough,” Dean joked.  
Sam didn’t move in response, instead continued to stare blankly at the wall. His voice became warmer and softer, as he tried to coax his brother out of his depression,  
“Sammy, look. I know things have been rough for you lately, but you gotta snap out of this man. Come back to us,” Dean stared at his brothers expressionless face with water filling in his eyes. He sniffed and began to shake Sam’s leg harder, “Sam, dammit. Snap out of it.”  
Recognition flashed in Sam’s eyes before his gaze wandered to the end of the bed where his brother sat.  
“Dean.” He said uncertainty lacing his voice.  
Dean flashed a small, comforting smile, “Yeah, it’s me Sammy.”  
Breathing deeply, Sam tried to lift himself up on to his elbows. Noticing the struggle, Dean rearranged himself so that he could support his brothers weight and slowly propped him upright. He was a bit wobbly, but Sam managed to stay sitting up as he raised a shaky hand to his head. He drew another, more staggered breath, and then fell apart. Tears began to flood his eyes, streaming down his face. The sobs racked his body but he couldn’t stop. Soon he felt Dean’s arms reach around and embrace him. He accepted the affection and buried his face into Dean’s shoulders. Slowly, Dean patted Sam’s hair down, “It’s okay little brother, I've got you.” The two sat like that for some time, Sam half cradled in Dean’s arms. Dean rocking his little brother back and forth, offering comforting words. Even after Sam had stopped crying, he could feel the wetness on his cheeks. Embarrassment rose up in the pit of his stomach and bloomed red on his face. At first, he tried to push away from Dean but his body felt so weak and helpless that he just fell back against his brother's chest. He let out a soft sigh and felt as Dean shifted his weight so he could peer down at him.  
“Dean,” Sam began, his voice small and childish.  
Dean just shook his head, “It’s okay Sam. It’s all okay.”  
Eventually, Dean noticed his brother’s weight shift and knew Sam had fallen asleep. He gently moved Sam so that his body was laid comfortably on the bed and placed a blanket on top of him. Not much talking had occurred but Dean could feel a change in the air, like the tension between the two had lessened. When Sam woke up, he would have to approach the topic again, but for now, he would let his brother rest.  
  
Sam opened his eyes and realized it was the first time in months he had woken without the remnants of the cage haunting his consciousness. A flush of embarrassment crossed his face, quickly as he remembered the events that had happened earlier, but he tried to push the emotion down. Some of the strength had returned to his muscles and he was able to get up out of bed and walk down the hallway. Muffled voices reached his ears. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but he recognized the familiar gruffness of Cass and Dean.  
“Dean, I just want to talk about it,” Cass was trying to say but then stopped as he noticed the hunter’s gaze. He turned around to see a disheveled Sam shuffle into the room. His eyes were red and puffy and his pajamas had the wrinkles of someone who hadn’t moved in several days, but he was here, standing with them in the kitchen.  
“Heya Sammy,” Dean said cautiously.  
Sam looked over at his brother, letting a small smile touch the corners of his lips,  
“Hey Dean,” he replied, his voice hoarse from in-use.  
Dean could still feel the awkwardness hanging between them, like a blanket covering up all that hap transpired before. The urge to move on and ignore what had happened was strong, but Dean pushed past that and pulled back the blanket as he strode over to Sam and grasped him in a firm embrace.  
“It’s good to see you back Sammy.” He said, his voice gruff with emotion.  
Dean leaned back from his brother,  
“So what’s up, how are you feeling?”  
Mild anxiety rose in the pit of his stomach as Sam heard the question his brother asked. However, he looked at Dean in the eyes and replied in his most convincing voice, “You know what, I think I’m doing good.”  
Dean responded with an affirming pat on the back, “Good.”  
The relief in Dean’s eyes drove a spike in Sam’s heart. How could he tell him one good day wouldn’t erase years of torture. The answer was that he just couldn’t tell Dean how he was feeling. One tender moment and then the facade was back. Sam managed to strain a smile as he walked over to the table where Dean and Cass were sitting. He could hear himself join in on the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. For the next several days, Sam continued to play his part, going through the motions, pretending things were getting better. This was only reinforced when Dean seemed less concerned. How could he tell him that his world was still falling apart.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean sat at the table looking at his brother who was smiling and laughing at whatever naive thing Cass had just said. The knot in his stomach loosened. It had been a week since Sam had walked into the kitchen and every day Dean could see him getting stronger. He was up and dressed by 10 am; hell, he’d even gone for a run this morning. Although, he was never sure why someone would put themselves through that awful process, he was happy to see his brother participating in his normal activities. Everything was returning to how it should be. Dean smiled at the feeling and took a swig if his coffee enjoying the moment of respite he’d seem to have found.  
  
Smile. Nod. Laugh. Go through the motions. Mechanical, but they’ll believe you. Go through the motions and maybe you can make yourself believe you’re alright.  
Sam screamed from behind the metal bars of the prison inside his head. He watched as his body sat with Cass and Dean and laughed and partook in the conversation, while he was trapped in his self made hell. This is how the days went now. He didn’t want to worry Dean again, so pretending to be okay was the only option; and, Dean believed it. The nights weren’t as easy to fake. The nightmares continued, but Sam had learned to sleep with his head buried in the pillow to muffle the screams. Dean pretended he didn’t hear them because Sam seemed fine in the morning. So, they continued their dance, staying true to the Winchester way of dealing with difficult emotions.  
  
Sam stared at his alarm clock which read 9:00. Though he’d been up for several hours now, he learned it was better to stay in bed less Dean begin to worry again. With tired muscles, he began to rise out of bed. He yawned as he walked into the kitchen and found Dean sitting at the table staring intensely at the computer screen. Dean glanced up briefly as his brother entered the room but quickly refocused his attention on the story in front of him.  
“What’s up,” Sam asked, his voice betraying his tiredness.  
“I think I found us a case Sammy,” Dean replied shutting the screen quickly. He walked over to Sam and patted him on the chest, “Come on and get dressed, we don’t have all day for you to laze around”.  
Sam rolled his eyes at the comment but decided getting out of the house would help get his mind off his constant worries.


	8. Chapter 8

The impala sped down the road and the two brothers sat inside, a world of unspoken concern lingering between them. Dean looked over at his brother who was distractedly looking out the window. It was obvious there was something on his mind, and Dean knew he couldn’t avoid the subject forever.  
“How are ya Sammy?”  
Sam’s eyes refocused and he uncertainly glanced over at Dean before staring out the window again.  
“I’m fine,” he muttered  
Dean sighed but refused to give up  
“Good. Um, so do you still think about him?”  
Sam felt his chest tense, and looked down into his lap where his fingers nervously tapped against his thigh. It would be easy enough to deflect. Just say no and ask more about the case they were on. But, shouldn’t Dean know? Sure, Sam wasn’t paralyzed, unable to get out of bed, but he certainly wasn’t okay, but the task of bringing all this up again was daunting. Still looking in his lap, he said, “Yeah”.  
It was so quiet and Dean barely heard him but the answer made his heart sink. He licked his lips, trying to figure out how he wanted to respond. He’d opened up the door and it seemed like Sam was willing to answer, his only role was to keep going and show support. He could do at leas that, couldn’t he?  
“Is it...uhh..Is it hard? Are you….Do you still get scared?” he finished all the while noticing Sam growing more and more uncomfortable.  
Sam seemed to curl into himself despite sitting straight up in the chair. He wanted to escape but there was nowhere he could go. He had been trapped and and the only way out was to tell Dean what was going on. If only it was that easy though. He would have loved to just sit here and cry and let it all out, but the truth was he couldn't do that. It didn’t matter how bad he wanted it, each new piece of information he gave him was like tearing a piece of skin away. His secrets were his protection and he wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable yet. Yet at the same time, this was his brother, a man who was so emotionally closed off all the time, and yet was willing to open such a delicate conversation. He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He could give up some information, he had to.  
“Umm, yeah, I mean I still get the nightmares you know”.  
“I’d noticed”, Dean replied and immediately regretted it seeing Sam cringe away from the comment. “I mean, I hear sometimes...the screams, and it just...it worries me Sammy. I know what Lucifer did to you must….”  
“Stop.” Sam said firmly  
Dean looked over surprised and the steadiness and confidence in his voice but saw a single tear fall down Sam’s cheek. Sam was looking out the window again but his gaze was focused on determined.  
“Look, I can’t lie to you anymore and say I’m okay, because I’m not. But, there’s nothing anyone can do for me. I just need to push through it and it’ll be alright. I mean I’m here going on this case now and I’d say that’s a huge step, so please just stop bugging me about it.”  
Dean’s jaw firmed like he wanted to say something more but instead just gave a quick nod and focused on the road ahead. Sam sighed, a part of the confidence he’d built up moments before deflating. Why did he have to keep building up walls each time one was knocked down. He’d been able to tell Dean everything wasn’t the same but then immediately shut down further attempts at the conversation. He sighed again looking out at the landscape flying by.  
  
Several hours passed before they reached the bustling city of Carbondale, IL. The impala reved down the narrow city streets passing shops and restaurants. The town couldn’t have seemed more ordinary. The boys exchanged looks signaling their cynicism regarding the town, but eventually pulled up the cheapest looking motel they could find.  
Dean closed the door as he finished his call to Cass giving him their location.  
“Everything good?,” Sam asked glancing over the top of the car.  
“Yeah, Cass is a few hours drive from here, so what do ya say we put our stuff down and grab some grub?”


	9. Chapter 9

The look on Dean’s face made him appear like he’d just orgasamed and sighing gently, he took another bite of his burger. Sam watched him, slightly amused while he picked at the pile of leafy greens on his own plate. There was something relaxing of just getting back into the swing of things, working a normal case and engaging in all the roadtime activities. Cass had joined them and stared at Dean with a puzzled look on his face, probably wondering how someone could gain so much pleasure from a simple burger. Sam coughed lightly, “So what did you say we were hunting,”  
“Seems like a witch to me,” Dean said, bits of food spitting from his mouth, “Witnesses said they saw the knives came out of nowhere and seemed to have a mind of their own.” Sam nodded in agreement, “Any leads on where they might be?” “Nope,’ Dean replied lazily, much more preoccupied with his meal, “but I say we start with the witness.” 

“I swear the knives had a mind of their own, they were headed straight for poor old dave,” a blonde, middle aged woman said, her voice shaking  
“I know this must be tough,” Sam soothed, “but is there anything else specific you can remember? Is there anyone out there who might have wanted to hurt Dave?”  
The woman looked shocked “Oh I can’t think of a soul who’d do anything like this, but there was his girlfriend. The two just broke up and rumor has it, it was a nasty one. But I don’t think she would do something like this”.  
“Of course,” Sam patting her shoulder as he looked up to find Dean holding the hexbag.  
“If you think of anything else just call us”.  
“God I hate witches,” Dean muttered setting the hexbag aflame. Why couldn’t we get a nice ghost. We haven’t had one of those in a while.” Sam smirked at the comment, “So what are ya thinking. Check out the girlfriend?” “   
Yeah,” he sighed

There had been two listings under Sarah Victor’s name and the first was your average, run of the mill middle class household. There had been no obvious signs of witchcraft, which wasn’t untypical given her second property. The three pulled up to an abandoned warehouse on the very edge of town. Instantly, Sam could feel his body tense. The building was eerily similar to the last place they’d encountered Lucifer. This was different, he told himself, they were just here to kill a witch. It couldn’t be more simple. Letting his body loosen a bit, he got out of the car and met Dean and Cass who’d gathered around the trunk looking for the appropriate artillery. “You good,” Dean asked, noticing the tension in Sam’s posture. He tried as best he could to un-tense his body, “yeah” he replied in a not so convincing way. Stalking their way up to the building Dean nodded over to Sam indicating him to infiltrate from the side. The three burst into the building from different angels confronting the woman standing in the middle. She seemed unfazed by the barrage of giant men charging towards her. Smirking, she reached into a pouch on her side and whispered a curse, spraying the light powder into the air. Sam immediately started coughing and rubbing his eyes vigorously. When he opened them, he was standing there. Every ounce of Sam’s being seemed to drain away from him as he stared into the red glowing eyes of Lucifer. He knees wavered and then he fell to the ground. Lucifer stepped towards Sam, a smirk spreading across his face. On the ground, Sam frantically scrambled away screaming. He tried pointing his gun and shooting but his hands shook too hard from the fear. This was it, he thought, It’s all going to end like this.  
  
Dean stared in horror at his brother screaming hysterically, shooting at the empty air. He stood paralyzed, uncertain of what to think. Cass seized this moment to rush over to Sam in an attempt to grasp and get ahold of him. Sam easily shook the angel off and continued to scream, yelling out Lucifer’s name. The color drained from Dean’s face as he realized what was happening, but his muscles moved instinctively as he ran over to Cass and his brother, desperately trying to get control. With their combined strength, they were able to tackle Sam to the ground. Dean could feel his brother shaking beneath him as his body was wracked with sobs, begging Lucifer to stop.  
“Sammy,” Dean croaked, his own voice breaking against the emotional intensity of the situation, “Sammy, we’re here, it’s okay.”  
His pleas didn’t matter, Sam was absorbed in the hallucination. Realizing this, Dean glanced over at Cass who nodded reluctantly at him, and then left. He came back a few seconds later with rope in his hands. Dean looked away briefly, weary. But, it had to be done, for Sam’s own safety. As quickly and efficiently as they could, they began to tie the rope around Sam’s body, pinning his arms to his sides. All the while, Sam continued to sob and plead against an imaginary Lucifer.


	10. Chapter 10

The several hours it took to drive home were the most excruciatingly painful hours in Dean’s life. After the first hour, Sam began to calm down and the reality of what had happened washed over Dean. He slumped down in the seat and sighed heavily. Cass looked over at the hunter, and a look of deep concern passed over his face. If there was some way he could find to comfort him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but the truth was nothing could help Dean right now. His brother was in a dark place and Dean couldn’t help him; and, therefore, nothing could help Dean. Cass resigned to sitting in the passenger seat, looking into the overhead mirror, monitoring Sam’s condition.  
At some point, Sam’s mind returned to reality and shame filled his body. He could remember what had happened and every time he thought of it, his face blushed red with embarrassment. Dean and Cass were quiet in the front, and Sam knew it was because of what they had witnessed in the warehouse. He couldn’t quite get himself to speak. He tried several times, but each time his throat closed up as he began to mutter something. In the end, he sat back and tried not to think about the event. Tiredness overcame him and he drifted off.  
  
Dean and Cass had to lug Sam’s body inside, but Dean couldn’t complain as this was probably the best sleep Sam had gotten in a long time. They placed him on his bed, and memories of several weeks earlier came back. Sam had lied, but Dean had lied to himself too. Sam had pretended he was okay, and Dean had believed him, in part because he didn’t want to believe what was really true. Now they were in the same predicament as before and Dean couldn’t really blame anyone but himself. He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed, looking at Cass. Cass gave him and understanding glance and two hesitantly left the room. Again they sat across from each other at the table in the main lounging area of the bunker. Again, they sat, not knowing what to say. What was there to say? Sam was drowning and neither Cass nor Dean knew how to swim. Dean stared down into the wood of the table, fingers pressed against his temples.  
“Dean,” Cass started to say.  
“Don’t,” Dean replied, not looking up, “just don’t.”  
“Dean,” Cass said more firmly  
Dean slowly looked up, the weight of the situation evident on his face, “I can’t Cass, I just can’t right now.”  
“I know,” he replied empathetically, “but Sam needs you too. I know this is hard, but you need to be strong right now. What we just witnessed was truly awful, but it’s all the more reason we need to deal with this now.”  
Dean glared back at him, but concession finally eased its way into the lines of his face.  
“What do we do then?”  
This time it was Cass who looked down, “I don’t know” he said quietly.  
Dean nodded, roughly wiping a hand over his eyes. He stood abruptly and Cass glanced up, but he was already stalking away. Cass watched him go, and when he was out of sight, he let out a soft breath. It was obvious Sam was not okay, but no one was taking the time to think about how Dean was dealing with all this. Both brothers were so hesitant to speak about their feelings resulting in big outbursts of emotion. He sighed again, knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment to change anything.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean lingered in the doorway of Sam’s room. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully for now, but Dean was more concerned about what was going to happen once Sam woke up. He looked down and let out a soft sigh and turned away to leave.  
“Dean,” the sound was weak, but Dean immediately spun around, looking at his baby brother, still groggy with the effects of sleep.  
“Sam! Hey, man, I’m here,” he said rushing over to his side.  
Sam rubbed his eyes, Dean coming in to focus. He sat up slowly, shifting his weight so that he was propped on one arm. He saw Dean sitting at the end of the bed looking concerned and the memories from earlier that day came into the forefront of his mind. His face immediately flushed with shame and he darted his eyes away from Dean’s.  
“Dean, I can explain,” he began  
Dean just shook his head, and Sam clamped his mouth shut. Dean’s face glowered with disappointment but quickly faded in to compassion as he looked across at his distraught brother.  
“I know Sam. I know, you...we both wanted to believe everything was okay, but back there, that showed us that everything is not.”  
The hot sensation of tears began to form in Sam’s eyes, but he refused to let himself cry. All he wanted was to be strong for Dean, just this once. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed, the words unable to articulate themselves. Dean didn’t reply, instead he leaned over and embraced him. Sam couldn’t hold back anymore, and let the tears fall freely.  
“It’s okay, Sammy. We’re going to get you better this time.”  
Dean held his brothe, he didn’t want to let go. While he held him, Sam couldn’t fall apart, and that’s all he wanted. Eventually, Sam pushed back, wet streaks slid down his face. He sniffled and stared down, still feeling slightly abashed. Dean gave him an understanding nod, and then helped him up. They walked down the hall and entered the main area where Cass still sat at the table. Cass glanced over at them, a slight smile touching his lips. He watched as they shuffled over to the table and sat down with him. Cass noticed the red, puffiness around Sam’s eyes, but chose to ignore it and instead gave the hunter a warm, comforting smile, “Sam, it’s good to see you”.  
“Thanks Cass,” he replied, smiling shyly and sitting down.  
Dean shared a glance with Cass then turned towards Sam  
“Listen man, we got to talk about what happened.”  
A sudden tightness wrapped around Sam’s muscles and organs as he stared painfully into Dean’s eyes, but didn’t protest.  
“Look, it’s okay what happened back there. I’m sure you didn’t want to lose your marbles back there,” Sam flinched at the comment, but Dean continued on, “but we can’t continue going on like this. Now I found some people I think might be able to help.”  
Sam scoffed at this and Dean stared back hard, “What are they gonna do Dean? They can’t help me, no one can. I’m sorry but it’s true, you can’t imagine what I’ve been through, and it’s not because you’re not trying, it’s because no one can truly imagine the nauseatingly evil mind Lucifer has,” Sam finished slightly out of breath.  
Dean’s eyes bored into Sam, “You’re right Sam. I don’t know what you’ve been though. I can’t imagine, but you haven’t told us anything either. You sit there and keep it all bottled up inside until you freak out and start shooting at the air. All I’m trying to do is help, but if you don’t want it and would rather keep on being miserable, be my guest.” He stood up glaring at Sam before stomping out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam sat on his bed, head in hands. His body ached with guilt and shame. Why couldn’t he just accept the help Dean was offering? Why had he been such a dick about the whole thing? Lucifer’s knowing smile popped into his mind and he squeezed his eyes closed. How much longer could he continue on like this? A quiet knock on the door made him look up. Dean leaned against the door frame. “Hey”.  
“Hey,” Sam replied his voice questioning.  
Dean moved as to come in but then stopped and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry for the things I said back there,” Sam lowered his eyes, but didn’t say anything back, “but Sam, we can’t keep playing this game. I know you don’t want to go to some shrink, but I’ve been doing some research and I think I found some techniques that could help. Do you think you could at least try that?”  
Sam nodded his head slightly, unsure if he was truly willing; though, Dean accepted this and sat down on the bed next to him.  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now. We’re gonna get you better Sammy.”  
Sam looked up and saw the determination in Dean’s eyes, and a he could feel his old sense of determination blossom within himself too. 

Over the next several weeks, Dean worked hard to lessen Sam’s fear of the devil. This time, Sam was different. He was raw and open, and although Dean found this level of vulnerability difficult to accept, he was happy to see Sam being honest for once. Not every day was easy, for Dean or Sam. There were days where it seemed like Sam had regressed to his original state, and it was hard for Dean not to lose hope. On these days, once Sam had fallen asleep, he would sit with Cass. Sometimes they just sat, and sometimes they did more, it depended on how rough the day was. Overall, the good days outweighed the bad and things finally started to seem like they were getting better.  
  
Sam breathed out as Dean exited the room. He let his shoulders slump and his body un-tense. They had completed another one of their “sessions” which basically involved Sam recounting instances of him in the cage. The pain was still fresh in his mind, but somehow stitches were in place of a gaping wound. He rolled his shoulders around, trying to loosen tightened muscles. He never found the conversations easy. Recounting time spent with Lucifer might as well be like living it over again, and yet he continued. Each day, Dean sat down with him, concern and encouragement defining his features, ready to tackle another memory. It wasn’t easy and there were days Sam couldn’t say yes. He could tell the refusal made Dean uneasy, as if he was worried one day of setbacks erased weeks of progress. Yet, as he continued through this process, he realized there were days he just couldn’t cope with the emotional intensity of the situation. Although, Dean didn’t see this as positive, Sam was proud he could identify what his body was and was not capable of. He was even more satisfied when he realized he could, in fact, deal and process these memories and the pain and anxiety that went along with them. He was no longer going through the motions. Most days he was able to interact with everyone without even thinking of Lucifer. He was able to laugh, joke, and hunt again. The nightmares were decreasing, though still there, but even when they did occur, the lasting effect was much less pronounced. Sam could feel the difference growing within him and he felt relieved to feel like himself again. 

Sam sat at the table laughing at stupid joke Cass had unknowingly uttered. Cass reached up towards his head, a look of concentration coming over his face. Angel radio. Sam and Dean looked at him expectantly as his eyes regained focus.  
“What are those dickwings up to,”Dean asked taking a swig of his beer.  
Cass looked uncertainty towards Sam and then back at Dean, “Nothing just politics in Heaven.”  
Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m gonna get another beer, you guys good?”  
Sam nodded and watched as Dean left the room. Cass followed shortly, and Sam couldn’t help but smirk. He knew Dean and Cass had something going on, even though Dean tried so hard to pretend everything was still platonic. After several minutes passed, Sam decided the two probably got caught up and there was no point sticking around waiting. He decided to head back to his room and on the way heard muffled whispers coming from the kitchen. Normally, he would have stilled his curiosity to give Cass and Dean some privacy, but the nature of the whispers seemed urgent, and he couldn’t help but listen in.  
“Dean, I’m sure. Lucifer is here.”


	13. Chapter 13

There was a sinking feeling in Sam’s heart and then everything went still. Lucifer. Back. Not only back, but in the area. Weeks of progress were eradicated as memories pounded into Sam like a tidal wave. He was back in the cage, screaming, Lucifer laughing covered in Sam’s blood. He was back in the warehouse, Lucifer’s knowing smile etched into his corneas. Shame, guilt, anxiety, terror. They all flooded his body, drowning him so that he could no longer breathe. He heart beat loudly in his chest and his muscles itched to move, to run, to sprint away, but he was paralyzed, stuck lingering in the doorway to the kitchen.  
Dean happened to glance up and noticed Sam’s frozen form hovering outside. His body jumped into protective mode as he rushed over to his baby brother.  
“Sammy, hey Sammy, you with me,” He asked desperately looking for signs of recognition in his brother.  
Sam remained frozen. He saw Dean in front of him and screamed out longingly, but his body refused to comply. The blood seemingly drained away leaving him cold and imobile. His body was filled with emotion yet numb at the same time. He wanted to cry and be comforted yet also run away and escape. The internal paradox continued as he heard Dean become more and more distressed.  
Dean was unsure of what to do. He was practically screaming Sam’s name, but there was no response. He stood there with that far off look that haunted Dean’s memories of the time before. He looked around frantically, but Cass couldn’t offer any help. Finally, Dean looked back at his brother who remained motionless and expressionless and punched him hard in the face.  
Sam tumbled to the floor, his gigantic body crashing against the concrete floor. His body seemed to uncoil at the touch and he regained control of his body. He looked up, rubbing his face, and muttered “thanks.” Dean nodded curtly and helped him up.  
“You okay, man? The way you were just staring had me worried.”  
Guilt immediately filled his stomach, but he stuffed the emotion down and instead replied honestly, “Yeah. It was like just for a moment, everything came back and hit me at once.”  
Dean searched Sam’s eyes, looking for the deception he was so use to. Instead he saw into the beaten and battered soul of his younger brother. He blinked several times and truly looked at his brother seeing all the pain and the torment that had been written so plainly on his skin. He grasped Sam suddenly in a firm embrace, “It’s Okay Sam.”  
Sam, shocked and surprised at first, returned the gesture.  
Dean sniffed once and then stepped back, quickly wiping his face. “Sam, listen. It’s time we get this son of a bitch once and for all. Now, I know how much you want to be in on this, and I know how much it would mean to you; but, listen to me, little brother, I don’t want you coming on this hunt.”  
Relief washed throughout Sam, and yet he found himself protesting, “What?! No way Dean, I have to go with you. I’m not letting you hunt the devil by yourself.”  
“I won’t be by myself,” Dean replied, calmer than Sam would have thought, “I’ll have Cass with me. I know you want to come Sam, believe me I do, but look how far we’ve gotten. I just don’t want to set you back at all.”  
“But..” Sam started,  
“No,” Dean said, firmly this time, “I’m sorry Sam, but you’re not coming with us and that’s the end of it.”  
Sam allowed his mind to fully process the concession as he watched Dean and Cass leave the room. Of course he wanted to be on the hunt with them, ice the devil. It’s all he’d ever wanted, but the past wasn’t that far behind him, and he knew Dean was right.


	14. Chapter 14

Minutes turned into hours as Sam watched the small hands of his watch slowly creep by. He sat nervously bouncing his legs trying not to think of Lucifer covered in his family’s blood. What a coward he had been for not going with them. They were out there hunting the freaking devil while Sam sat like a child only able to wait for them to return. He stood up and began to pace back and forth, shaking his hands, trying to expel some of the anxiety that was pumping through him like adrenaline. It had been 10 hours and he’d heard nothing. He couldn’t just wait anymore, he grabbed his coat and began walking up the steps when the door flung open. Dean burst through beaten and bloodied. “Dean,” Sam exclaimed exasperatedly.  
“Sam,” Dean said rushed and panting, then more slowly, “Sammy, I need you to listen to me.”  
Sam shook his head, confused. “Dean, what are you talking…”  
“We have him Sam.”  
Sam just stared at his brother, his brain refusing to process the information. He blinked several times and then inhaled sharply. The air scratched his throat as it filled his lungs and he could feel tears forming in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the fear. His lips trembled as he tried to think of something to say, but what was there to say?  
Dean looked over his brother, trying not to let concern overcome his mind. Sam had immediately stiffened at the mention of Lucifer. He stood there, pain and terror invading every pore on his body, and yet what had Dean expected when he told him the news? He hesitantly reached a hand out and placed it on Sam’s shoulder. He looked firmly into his brother’s hazel eyes, “Sam. I need you to focus.”  
The familiar roughness of Dean’s voice drifted over Sam, bringing in warmth to his tensed body, and he could feel himself relax a bit.  
“We were going to gank him,” Dean continued, “But, I knew this was your fight too, man.”  
Dean licked his lips, unsure, before continuing “Look, I understand if this is too much, but we brought him here, and I wanted to give you the opportunity to kill this SOB.”  
Sam closed his eyes, letting the words close their fingers around his throat. Every neuron was screaming at him to escape, run away, get the hell away from Lucifer, but when he opened his eyes and saw the strength and confidence in his brother’s gaze, he knew exactly how this story was going to end. He breathed in deeply, and nodded, “Okay Dean. Bring him in.”

Sam’s eyes followed the figure as Dean and Cass led him down the stairs. He could feel his consciousness splitting in two. One half, confident and determined, the other ready to flee or cower. The closer the figure got to the chair Sam stood in front of, the stronger that other half of him grew. What the hell was he thinking? Last time he’d faced the devil, he’d become a whimpering blob and now he expected himself to stab this blade through him?  
Dean guided Lucifer down the stairs, but the whole time was focused on Sam who stood at the bottom watching them. "Dammit", he thought, maybe this was a bad idea. Lucifer seemed to read his mind, and snickered lightly, the sound muffled by the bag they had thrown over his head. Dean responded by roughly pushing him a bit. They shuffled down the remaining stairs and finally pushed Lucifer on his knees once he was in front of Sam.  
Sam stared down at the devil who was kneeling in front of him. His heart rate increased, and his breath became shallow as he cautiously reached out to remove the sack from Lucifer’s head.  
Red glowing eyes met his own, and everything else in the room disappeared.  
“It’s just you and me again,” Lucifer whispered.  
Sam looked around frantically but everything was dark. His breath became panicked and short, and his skin itched to crawl off his body. Memories of the cage and the torment overloaded his mind. He reached up to his head in an attempt to hold together the pieces that were beginning to fall apart. Tears pooled in his eyes and he found himself falling to his knees. This was a mistake. This was such an absolute fucking mistake, his mind growled at him as the memories continued to flash by, one after the other. Pain wracked his body. He could feel Lucifer slicing into his skin, tearing into his soul. He remembered every last detail from his time down under, and it was all pouring over him like boiling water. And then, he heard the laughter. It was quiet at first and grew more boisterous. Sam looked up slowly, knowing full well where the source was coming from. Lucifer was there, completely bound, with his head thrown back in deep laughter. He paused, seemingly noticing Sam’s gaze and rounded on the younger Winchester. “Oh Sammy,” he mocked, a smirk creeping onto his face, “This is so much better than any of the torture I could have inflicted to you down in the cage. And you remember all the good times we had, don’t ya Sammy?”  
Sam flinched at the comment, remembering Lucifer caressing his body only to turn and defile him in ways he couldn’t bring himself to think about. He began to look down again, shame, guilt, and terror bubbling beneath his skin, when Lucifer began to laugh again. It wasn’t the same deep from the gut kind of laugh that it had been moments ago, but instead one filled with knowledge. The knowledge that he had Sam, and he always would. Suddenly, all those other emotions were gone, replaced only by anger. Anger at his current situation, anger at the past, anger at himself. His body grew warm and energized and he hadn’t realized he was standing again. He looked firmly in Lucifer’s eyes for the first time since before the cage. He could feel that old Sam Winchester return, that boy who had defeated the devil. And, in one fluid motion, he felt the angel blade fly forward and connect with Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer looked down, shocked and then looked back up at Sam. His eyes and mouth were filled with the dying light of his grace. The light was brilliant and Sam found himself instinctively covering his eyes. It was over quickly, and when Sam lowered his arm, Lucifer lay on the ground, dead. Sam looked around, breathing heavily, and saw Dean and Cass standing nearby looking flabbergasted. He looked back down at the body on the ground and let a small smile touch his lips. A heaviness lifted from his chest and he was able to breathe fully for the first time in months.  
“Son of a bitch,” he heard Dean say, and turned over to speak to his brother.  
“He’s gone, we actually did it,” Dean continued turning to Cass grasping him by his coat and pulling him in and kissing him. Realizing that Sam was still in the room, he quickly released Cass and turned to face his brother. His face flushed with embarrassment and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with something to say, “Sam, I, Uhh, we, uhh”  
Sam shook his head smiling, “It’s about time.”  
Dean smiled wryly, and walked over to embrace his little brother.  
“It’s over now Sammy.”


	15. Chapter 15

The wet moisture of breath settled against Sam’s ear, “You really thought it would be that easy?” Sam’s eyes shot open, and came face to face with Lucifer. The devil smiled astutely, and brought his face closer, “You thought you could just stab me and that would be the end of it? You thought, you could escape me Sam?,” He brushed Sam’s hair behind his ear, “I’ll always be here,” he finished pushing his lips against Sam’s. Sam struggled beneath the kiss, letting out small screams for help. Lucifer pulled back and snickered, grasping Sam’s throat. Sam’s hands shot up, fingers pleading against Lucifer’s unrelenting grasp. He found himself gasping, begging him to stop, but Lucifer just held tighter. On the verge of losing consciousness, Lucifer let go, and Sam hungrily gulped down air. “Oh Sammy, we are going to have so much fun”.   
Sam screamed and his eyes flashed open. Dean burst through the door, gun in his hands but eyes still closed. Sam’s eyes darted across the room, looking for any signs of Lucifer’s presence, but found none. Dean cracked his eyes open a bit and saw Sam curled up on his bead, hand around his throat.  
“Sam, what’s going on?”  
Sam looked down ashamed, and realization blossomed in Dean. He put the gun down and sat down beside his brother who was now silently crying.   
“It was Lucifer wasn’t it,” Dean asked but received no answer from Sam.   
They just sat there like that for awhile. Neither of them truly acknowledging the other but taking comfort in the company. Time passed, and Sam had stopped weeping, but his gaze remained fixated on the ground. Finally, without looking up, he muttered,   
“I’m sorry.”  
Dean looked over at his brother, surprised at the phase. “For what?”  
“I thought I was stronger than this. We killed him, but I still can’t escape him.”  
Dean looked down and then reached over and brought him over into a side hug.   
“Listen man, I’m probably not the best one to talk about this, but when I was doing all that research on PTSD, I think this is just how it goes.”  
Sam glanced over, defeat evident in his face. Dean’s heart hurt looking at him. All he wanted was to erase all of Sam’s fears and tell him everything was going to be okay, but instead he continued,  
“I don’t mean to sound hopeless, I just mean that I think it’s going to take some time. We killed him, but that doesn’t get rid of all the memories you have. We’ll continue to do what we’ve been doing and we’ll get there Sammy, I promise.”  
Sam continued to stare at the floor, not convinced. Dean just sighed, “Listen to me little brother, we’re going to get you better. You know why? Because you have me… and Cass, and we’re not giving up on you. Not now, not ever.” Sam finally looked up, and met Dean’s eyes. Despair and hopelessness still weighed on his soul, but it was lessened as Dean’s strength and determination radiated outwards. “Okay.”


End file.
